


birthday.

by Irrwisch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday, Chantry Boys, Cheese, Cullistair, Ferelden, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrwisch/pseuds/Irrwisch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair has been with the Chantry three years now and managed to get on everyone's bad site. Two weeks before his birthday, the Sisters present Cullen Rutherford as his new room-mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> For the cullistair week on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> and because it's been an ass-long-time I haven't uploaded anything.  
> There's no kissy-touchy-feely stuff here.  
> So if you came for kisses, then please leave.

His hair was curly. And blonde. That boy’s eyes were large and brown. The Sisters here would swoon over that boy like rats. Poor sod. He, at least, made sure everyone was tired and annoyed of his jokes.  
He even managed to get his room-mate out. That one hadn’t been nice. Calling him a noble bastard and else. It wasn’t a secret nobody got along with him. So... why was this boy here, looking at him, with a Sister in tow?  
“His name is Cullen Rutherford”, the Sister said, “and he is to be your new room-mate. Cullen; that is Alistair. Don’t listen to anything he says.” The Sister gently patted the boy on his back and left them on their own. The boy – Cullen – looked after her and then turned his attention back to Alistair. “Hi”, he said. “I’m Cullen. So you’re Alistair, yes? I hope we can be good friends!” Alistair wasn’t all too pleased at that expression. And, he didn’t want to get his hopes up, either. Cullen would talk to the others and they’d tell him he was the Arl’s bastard. That he was the unwanted bastard, too. Which wasn’t any kind of improvement.  
Realising he hadn’t said a single word, he just made some kind of grunt – to be honest, it somehow sounded like a distant cousin of a whimper – and turned around. “The top bed’s mine. The trunk too. Just stuff your stuff in the cabinet over there. Should fit. The Templars like to come in just after the sun went up, so if you want to impress – be up and shine.” Alistair heard Cullen coming next to him. “Don’t you want to impress them?” Alistair looked over to the boy – he was nearly as tall as himself – and responded: “I don’t even want to be here. So why should I try at all? I’ll pick up combat training soon enough, without impressing anyone.” Cullen blinked at him. “Why don’t you want to be here? Being a Templar must be amazing!”  
Alistair could clearly see the euphoria in the boy’s eyes and figured he’d come here on his own will. He grunted quietly and climbed the ladder to his bed. “If you say”, he mumbled. He didn’t want to dispel magic or hunt mages. He wanted to go back to Redcliffe and get scraps from the kitchens and play with the dogs. Sometimes he even could pretend the Arl loved him. While a bed was nicer than a stack of hay, it was a bed of rejection. Lady Isolde hadn’t wanted him around, so he had to go. It wasn’t fair, was it? Why couldn’t Eamon just tell her whose son he really was? Maybe he could have stayed, then. Alistair sighed. He wanted his Mother’s Amulet to look at and his Golem Doll to cuddle with. Both things meant affection. The Arl had bought him the Doll when he turned seven years old. Alistair had seen it when they had been in Denerim, but hadn’t said a word and back in Redcliffe, the Arl surprised him with it. His birthdays in Redcliffe had always been nice. Teagan would come over and the Bann would play with him a while.  
And now? Now his birthdays were like any other day. Alistair usually ended these days with singing to himself. Although he should just stop doing that. In two weeks, he’d be fourteen years old and therefore a child no longer. Becoming a Templar was his fate, whether he liked it or not. All he could do was annoying everyone around him. Maybe they’d throw him out? But they wouldn’t do that to someone who was rumoured to be a noble bastard.  
While despairing over his fate lying face-down on his bed, Alistair failed to notice that Cullen observed him all the time. 

Punctual as ever - because that’s how Templars work - they slam the door open to wake them up. Alistair just groans and hides under his pillow. Alistair heard voices talking from the safety of his pillow-defence-fort and was irritated. That was a boy talking to the Templars. Did he multiply during the last night? Had he eaten too much cheese, finally? Just in case something fishy was going on and would bite him, he laid still.  
He heard the Templars leave not long after, and then he felt weight on the ladder. Andraste save him, he did multiply – by the power of cheese!  
Alistair shot up of bed and startled his poor room-mate half to death – Cullen actually lost grip of the ladder and fell on his bum. Alistair looked down and simply said, shocked: “You’re not me.” Cullen, rightfully mortified, looked back up and didn’t say anything for two minutes straight.  
“No?!” he then said and stood up again. “The Templars said to be in the hall in half an hour. Come on!” Alistair stared at him. His hair was curly. Oh... yes! “You’re my room-mate. Wullen.” Cullen groaned. “Cullen. Cullen, with a C. Now move!”  
Alistair sunk back into bed. “Nah. They just yell at me later, I have to recite even more of the Chant and then we’re holding hands, singing.” Cullen frowned and climbed that ladder again. “No way! If you stay here, I stay here too; and then we both have to recite even more of the Chant. Once I learned it all, of course.” Surprised, Alistair looked at Cullen. Did that boy really mean that? And could Alistair allow that? Getting Cullen into trouble?  
“Listen. Nobody here likes me, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. So go outside, befriend someone else and if you’re nice, you get the Revered Mother to let you switch rooms. But don’t try to make be a better recruit. You want to be a Templar? Then go ahead. I don’t. And now just leave me alone.” With that, he turned around and just wished Cullen away. When he came here, he had wished for friends. Real ones, too. He didn’t find them. And now, he didn’t want to hope or pretend. Because the reality of everything... would just be too much.  
Cullen looked at him a long time, until he finally left. Alistair never thought the door to be so loud.  
*  
The Templars came later and yelled at him; and he needed to do more chores in the kitchens. Usually that was only peeling potatoes and sweeping after the cooks. He felt bad this time, though. Was that because of Cullen? He hadn’t seen the boy again after this morning and figured he was learning something somewhere. And if he wasn’t... well, Alistair couldn’t fault him for not coming back. He probably found better people to be friends with and maybe he was already persuading the Revered Mother to be allowed to switch rooms. He sighed quietly and took the next potato.  
“What’s with the sighing, boy? Y’know luck’s running out, right?” The cook was a very resolute woman and possibly the only person in the monastery that Alistair could call some-sort-of-friend. “I’m not really lucky to begin with, you know”, he replied and kept on peeling. “I know, but you’re not the sighing type, child. Tell me, what troubles you?” Alistair out the potato down and sighed again. “They brought this new recruit yesterday. Cullen. He says he wants to be my friend, but he doesn’t know what the others are all saying.”  
He heard a grumpy grunt and then he got smacked by a pan. The cook put so much force behind it, he flew from his stool. “So ya drive him away, like a fool? Why should he pay attention to whatever the other boys are saying? You say you aren’t the Arl’s son, and what? Because the others say that, he’s got to believe them? And don’t get me with that dragging him down shit you’re pulling off at every opportunity.” She grabbed his ear and pulled him up, shaking him a little. “You go to him, tell him he can be your friend if he still wants you. No excuses, young man, I’ll know.” She dragged him towards the door. “But... but the potatoes!!” he tried to complain, like he was very eager peeling them. “Don’t tell me they declared their love to you, child. I’ll peel them. You’re gonna be here tomorrow again, anyway. Make it up to me by making a friend. Shoo, now, before I kick your butt!” Alistair all but ran. That woman could be the worst abomination.  
*  
He didn’t find Cullen anywhere. He’d figured he’d be in the Great Hall somewhere, or with one of the Sisters, but Cullen was nowhere to be found. Alistair sighed, quietly. He made a mess, didn’t he? He scared away the one boy in this whole damn thing that wanted to be his friend, of all things. He could really slap himself in the face for that idiocy.  
There really wasn’t much point in looking anymore. Cullen probably was with the other boys, wasn’t he? And they’d tell him all about everything, and then Cullen wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore.  
Eventually, Alistair found his way to the over-sized statue of Andraste. He wasn’t really one for praying in general, even though he did believe in the Maker. Maybe it was because all his childhood-prayers have gone unanswered? Nonetheless, he looked up to Her. Maybe he could bring a candle to Her in two weeks and pretend She was celebrating with him? Maybe that’d be a nice change. He would do it later at night, when the others were already in bed. Yes, Yes, that was a good plan. Andraste wouldn’t disappoint him. This year, it was at least a decent plan. It would be better than sulking alone in his bed, imagining things. Alistair kneaded his hands. He could try at one more prayer, right? The worst that could happen was it not coming true, and since he already expected that...  
He kneeled in front of Her and started praying. Not the Chant. The Sisters sang it well enough all the time. No. He wished for a friend – again. This one friend. He had one in mind. But He wouldn’t listen, would He? He wouldn’t listen to the unwanted bastard son.  
*  
Alistair was already in bed when Cullen came back. He wasn’t asleep, but he didn’t want to face his room-mate. He could only guess what the others said and what Cullen believed now. He was afraid to face the rejection he had somehow wrought himself. It was always the same. He ruined everything, didn’t he? First with Eamon, now with Cullen. He deserved nothing else.  
He heard Cullen making just a few noises while he got into bed. He was amazingly quiet. Alistair always sounded like a Bronto, whatever he did. Once Cullen had settled in, Alistair curled in himself. He wanted to scream and blame the world.  
Sadly, he only had himself to blame.  
*  
|  
He barely saw a glimpse of Cullen the next two weeks. The boy was gone before Alistair woke up and just came back after Alistair was lying in bed again. Cullen probably tried to avoid him. That must be it; Alistair hadn’t been extremely kind towards him. Basically telling him to stay away didn’t do much for establishing friendships. Alistair was too much of a coward to stay up late and confront Cullen, either. So one night, he put an entire cheese wheel on Cullen’s pillow. Nothing happened, though. Cullen took it with him next morning and didn’t say a word about it. Probably sharing it with his new found friends, wasn’t he? And here he was, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Cullen would share this wonderful cheese with him. What a fool he was.  
*  
It was his birthday today, and it went as well as Alistair had expected. Nothing happened. That was something, too. No extra-teasing, no extra-chores. He even didn’t do so badly during the Chant. If anyone wanted to be proud of him, this would be the day. He even managed to steal a candle during the service today. ...whoever wanted to be proud of him probably wouldn’t be so proud of that.  
Alistair didn’t care however. It was his candle. His birthday candle. He and Andraste would have a party tonight.  
He just wished the Maker would’ve listened to his prayer. Alas, it was a one-man-plus-Prophet-party. Alistair looked over to where Cullen was standing, and he saw his room-mate talking to other boys. Perhaps he shared the cheese with them. Or he gave it back to the kitchens. But nobody had yelled at him for stealing an entire cheese wheel – again – so Cullen had probably eaten it. That was something, at least.  
He could join them. Even if it was just resulting in them going away, he could join them. But he didn’t. Alistair cradled the candle in his pocket and went back to his room. He’d wait until Cullen would come to back, so he could sneak out again. It wouldn’t be long, his birthday party. Just lighting the candle, talking to Her, and go back. It was more than he’d done the previous years. Nobody would notice, and tomorrow everything was normal again.  
*  
Cullen wasn’t that late today. That actually made Alistair happy, because he really didn’t want to get caught by patrolling Templars. After Cullen had settled in, Alistair waited half an hour, before he silently got out of bed – as silently as a Bronto could, anyway. So he possibly woke up the whole monastery.  
He snuck away – and nobody was in the hallway, too. It was kind of a relief, now he just had to hope nobody would be in the Chapel. Alistair hurried along and come to a halt in front of Andraste – he was still alone. Breathing deeply, he got the candle out of his pocket – thank the Maker it was still intact – and lit it, placing it on the altar. He sat in front of Andraste then and looked up. “Happy birthday, Alistair”, he said, in his best woman-sound-alike-voice. Which just sounded like a dying cockroach, but no-one was here to complain.  
Alistair hugged his knees then and tried to pretend. He tried to pretend the other initiates were here and would celebrate with him. They’d be here and be happy with him, for him. Maybe they and the Cook would have baked a cheese cake or whatever. He missed Redcliffe. He wondered if he was anyone but Maric’s son, if things would be different. Why couldn’t he be the son of two servants, or a farmer, or a smith? But no, of course it had to be the king.  
He pressed his face in his knees and wished the world away. Or maybe, maybe he wished for a wonder that would take him away from here. Alistair sighed and got up again. “Good night, Andraste. Nice party, right? Have to do that again.”  
He left Her then, and went back to his room, as quietly as he could. No need to alert anyone without reason. Quickly, he slipped inside his room and shut the door. Well, that had gone better than expected. Maybe he would really do that next year again. “Where have you been?” Alistair turned to ice. He wasn’t supposed to be awake!  
“W-what?!” he squeaked and turned around to face his nemesis. Cullen was innocently sitting on his bed, looking at him. “I asked where you’ve been. It was a bit long for the privy... right?” Alistair gulped. He could lie, saying he’d gone to the privy for... a longer session. “Anyway, I have something for you.” Cullen went to the cabinet and pulled a tattered journal out. “It’s old, but I found it here.” Alistair took the journal hesitantly. “Uh... thanks. I’ve always wanted an old, tattered, dusty journal-thing...?” Cullen crossed his arms and looked unpleased. “Yeah, welcome. Open it and you’ll like it better.” Still quite unsure, Alistair did as he was told.  
_Cullen’s Guide on How to Make Cheese_  
Quickly sifting through the pages, Alistair found notes on how to make cheese from scratch – or Cow. “I... what... what?” He clutched that journal to his chest without realising it and that made Cullen smile a little. “The others said you love cheese more than anything else, and since my family has a farm, I thought you’d like knowing.”  
“B-but... but why give this to me?” Cullen shrugged. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? I want to be your friend, so I give you a gift. It’s all right if you don’t want it or don’t want me, but... what?!” Cullen didn’t get to finish his sentence in this lifetime, because suddenly he had to carry an extra-weight called Alistair clutching at his chest. Alistair all but jumped Cullen at the “I want to be your friend”-comment and didn’t intend to let go for one damn second. He’d slung his legs around the other’s hips and would be content dying right now.  
“Alistair, you’re heavy... give me back that journal. You get no more cheese!” Alistair just clung harder. “Like that would ever happen. Shut up, I’m trying to friend now.” He heard Cullen groan and felt him sitting down. That was fine, too.  
“So, where have you been? Telling me now?” Alistair gulped. “Andraste and I had the most wrecked party.” Cullen chuckled simply at that. “I see. Quite the partying type, is she? You’re doing it again? Am I getting invited?” Alistair laughed. “Gotta ask Andraste, buddy. She writes the cards. Usually, it’s very exclusive. But if I approve of you, I could persuade her.”  
Cullen hugged Alistair back now. “Well then, got a whole year to try. I’m getting invited, let me tell you. Happy birthday this year still, Alistair.”  
*  
|  
Next year, he stole a candle again. He placed the candle in front of Andraste again and lit it. Again, he sat in front of Her, and looked up. This time, though, he didn’t do it alone.  
“Happy birthday, Alistair.”


End file.
